


No One But You

by MorganBartonRomanoff



Series: Clintasha Advent 2020 [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Human Trafficking - mentioned, Love Confessions, Sexual implications, Strike Team Delta (Marvel), Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganBartonRomanoff/pseuds/MorganBartonRomanoff
Summary: Day 6 ofClintasha Advent 2020- TropesIt's really not fair that he gets to beat up assholes while she has to parade around and tolerate their predatory eyes.It's really not fair that he gets to punch the asshole who sells people while she has to make googly eyes at him.And it's really not fair that she has to drinktequila.Part Four of my Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020 - Y3 - Fake RelationshipPart Three of my Black Widow Bingo 2020/2021 - Square filled - Bar Fight
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Clintasha Advent 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049084
Kudos: 16





	No One But You

**Author's Note:**

> Also written for the Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020 by [ladiesofmarvelbingo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ladiesofmarvelbingo) and for the Black Widow Bingo 2020/2021 by [blackwidowbingo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/blackwidowbingo)
> 
> Couple of things:  
> \- For this one I am going with the 'Natasha was born in 1927' theory and you can decide if she had been put in cryo like Bucky or it's the superhuman gene keeping her young.  
> \- This was hard to write, sorry for the innuendos, they slipped.  
> \- THANK YOU KAT 💜  
> \- Also this is like 2k longer than I intended grrr

**New York, 2002**

The biggest issue with the ambassador was probably the security detail he constantly had around. Disarming half a dozen men in a hotel would attract too much publicity. It was one thing to have him disappear mysteriously, and completely another to leave a trail of unconscious bodies in their wake. So, they’d had to find a compromise.

During their surveillance over the past couple weeks, they had come across a pattern. The ambassador only ever lowered his defences when he went on the prowl for the girl of the night.

She’d laughed then, a plan forming in her head immediately. How utterly stupid of him to let his guard down for a person who could easily kill him with the right training and the right motives. Then again, not everyone was paranoid as her. He probably thought he had nothing to fear when it came to… _the weaker sex_.

They had counted carefully every night to discover that only three goons followed him out – two in the car and one going inside with him to observe from a distance – while the rest remained at the suite, possibly guarding paperwork S.H.I.E.L.D. had no interest in. Not when they could get the man himself.

That’s how she found herself sitting at a barstool at one of the hottest high-end bars in town in a skin-tight emerald dress, a long blonde wig hiding her fiery curls as she did her best to ignore all the hungry and lustful looks that didn’t matter and sipped on a martini. She’d done her research, made herself appear exactly the way the ambassador liked them. Most of all, she looked like she was seeking entertainment, and she knew no one in that bar would resist trying to provide it for her.

Her partner was waiting for the cue, watching from a window right across the street. He’d give them some time to get acquainted and then arrive just on time, when they would strike.

As he stepped up to her half an hour after he’d seen her go in, looming, she met his gaze in curiosity with a tentative, evaluating smile.

“Uh, hello,” she greeted, voice as sweet as honey, as she set her glass down and shifted to get a better look at him. He seemed older than his forty-eight years, but there was a charismatic glint in his eyes as he smiled. She supposed that was what won over all the women. That, and the expensive tailored suit that he may or may not have bought with human trafficking money. “Can I help you?”

“No, no, I’m sorry to bother you,” he shook his head. His voice was deep, slightly accented. “I just couldn’t help but notice how deep in thought you were, and I wondered what a beautiful woman like you would be doing in a place like this… by herself.”

He was perceptive. She _had_ been thinking, running through all possible scenarios in case their plan failed. She smiled bitterly and brought the glass to her lips, taking a big gulp.

“Getting stood up, I suppose.” His smile faltered, and if she wasn’t completely aware of his tactics and his background, she might have mistaken it for genuine.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” She shook her head.

“Oh, well. I guess it was about time to break it off anyway.” He gestured to the empty stool next to her and she nodded as she waved over the bartender.

“I’m sure it’s his loss,” he offered. She scoffed and shifted her jaw, playing the part of the pissed off girlfriend perfectly.

“Damn right it is.” She went to order another martini but then the ambassador suggested they split something… stronger. She hesitated for a second before nodding. A few seconds later a bottle of tequila landed in front of them along with a couple of shot glasses. The ambassador poured hers first before filling his as well. She downed it without waiting for him and flailed a hand. “I just don’t get why this keeps happening to me,” she sighed.

He looked at her in curiosity, encouraging her to continue as he poured her another drink. He absolutely intended to get her drunk, probably to take advantage of her, possibly worse. How unfortunate for him that she was Russian. And a Black Widow.

“You know,” he said, that smile back in his eyes, “I’ve had experience with enough beautiful women to know that… sometimes people just want different things from each other. And a relationship is not always one of those things.”

She blinked at him, tilting her head to the side, brows furrowed, starting the timer. She had five minutes to lure him in. “Oh, I’m well aware. I just wanted a casual fling. He’s the one insisting we go on actual _dates_.”

She would have missed the way his eyes flashed if she hadn’t been looking for it. The ambassador raised a glass and clinked it against hers. “Here’s to casual affairs then.”

She downed the second shot and shifted, turning her body more towards him, towards the door, so she’d be both easier to spot when her partner barged in and closer to their mark, looking for a reaction from him. His leg moved in an attempt to accommodate her and her eyes flickered down for a second before returning to his face with a smile.

“What brings you here, then…” she trailed off, prompting him to give her his name.

“Eduardo”, he offered, but followed with no last name. That was fine. She already knew it.

“I’m Liz,” she grinned as he filled their glasses again. “So… why are _you_ here alone?”

“I’m in town on business. I got too tired of sitting in my suite, I suppose,” he shrugged. “I thought I might get some air…” It was like his eyes alone communicated the next part and she struggled to fight off an unpleasant chill. “…and maybe meet someone beautiful to show me around.”

“New York is actually quite boring,” she smirked from underneath her lashes and bumped her knee against his once, and then pressed their legs flush to one another. “I can think of much more interesting things I can show you…”

She bit her lip, eyes boring into his, intense and unyielding, as she counted down the seconds. Sixty-two. Sixty-one.

“Or maybe,” she giggled, arm gliding across the bar even closer to him, “you can show me.”

“Well,” he tilted his head, “we still have a bottle of tequila to finish.”

She flashed her best pout, brushing his calf as she crossed her legs, directing his attention to the newly exposed flesh of her thigh. “I’m sure we can do that in the seclusion of your hotel room.”

She saw the exact moment his desire won the fight with the voice of reason. _She seemed drunk enough. She seemed eager enough. She seemed fun enough._ Before he could accept her offer, though, a familiar voice had her head snapping up.

“Babe?” The betrayal in her partner’s voice sounded so real and heartbroken that she wondered where it was coming from. She took a second to appraise the way the semi-casual suit looked on him, despite having seen him in it earlier as well. Then, he’d looked a bit like a douche. Now, though, with his hair ruffled and jacket slung over an arm, shirt sleeves rolled up as if he’d ran there, there was a different air around him. Something that felt much more attractive compared to the mature charisma of their target. Then, her brain resumed working and she came to the conclusion that he’d probably met more resistance than expected from the goons in the car. The jacket probably had blood on it. Coulson was going to have another field day.

She frowned, drowning out all warmth and excitement from her face. “Nick. What do you want.” He looked at her incredulously.

“What do I _want_? I was stuck in traffic! What are you—“

“And you couldn’t even send me a text? I have been waiting for you for _an hour_.”

“My phone died,” he tried to defend himself. “And so, what, you just start flirting with the first guy you see, is that it?” He gestured to their mark and she clenched her teeth, tensing. The ambassador tried to interfere.

“Hey, now, there’s no need for—"

“Stay out of this,” her partner snapped, and she reached to put a hand on the mark’s arm, fuelling her fake-boyfriend’s anger. He chuckled bitterly, an ugly expression of hatred and rage and pain growing on his face. “And you didn’t even try this time.”

“Nick, stop it,” she hissed. “You’re making a scene.”

“Well, good! You deserve a scene, Elizabeth. You know, I thought the first time you did this it would be a one-time-occurrence.”

“Stop it,” she snapped again. “You have _no_ right—”

“I have no right? I’m sorry, are you forgetting the _past year_?”

“One years of casual sex, Nick,” she rolled her eyes. “Hardly a relationship milestone.”

“Because you won’t let it be,” he exclaimed, his voice breaking at the end, stabbing a needle of ice into her heart. He wasn’t that good of an actor. Something had been bothering him and she hadn’t noticed and now it was being let out in the form of a fake, overdramatic argument. She’d have to dig into that lat— “You won’t let anyone near because you still think someone is going to hurt you. That’s not a life, Liz.” _That’s not a life, Nat._

She blinked away the wetness. His words cut deep for some reason – he wasn’t right. She had let people in. She’d let _him_ in. He was her best friend. So why was that becoming a real argument? The ambassador took one look at her and stood up, head held high in an attempt to look more imposing and intimidating. Maybe it worked for some people, but not for someone like her partner. Her eyes moved around, taking in the curious stares and the concealed whispers pointed their way.

“Listen, kid, that’s enough. If the lady doesn’t want to—”

“Kid? Seriously, Liz? You had to go for someone old enough to call me kid? What, you have some daddy kink I don’t know about?” She glared at him, sharply, warningly, as she stood shakily.

“Shut up, Nick. I’ve told you a thousand times already—”

“Damn it, Liz,” he barked. “I love you.” There it was again, that note of realness. “I thought you did too.”

She would talk to him about it later, _she would talk to him about it later_ , they had a mission to finish. “Well, that’s _your_ problem.” She shot their target a look, their eyes meeting, missing the way her partner’s eyebrows furrowed for the shortest fraction of a second, the way his mask seemed to melt into his real face. She took her purse and made to sidestep him, head turned away, with the ambassador on her heels, but her best friend grabbed her arm.

_And now…_

The older man pushed him back, ripping his palm off her skin. Her partner recovered quickly, returning the favour with pure rage etched on his face. She could only imagine what was going through his head. The ambassador stumbled a few steps back and she reached out to steady him, shooting her fake-hook-up a blistering glare. The mark brushed her off, before looking around and, upon not finding his bodyguard, lunged at the younger man. He tried to get a left hook onto “Nick”’s jaw, but the man leaned just out of reach, taking hold of the fist next to his face and pulling, having the ambassador stumbling into a punch stomach-first.

She yelled out for them to stop, for someone to help, but before security could get in between them her partner had landed another blow or two, and let himself be hit at least once, moving sluggishly, clumsily, holding back.

She suppressed a flash of annoyance at the thought that he got to have all the fun while she’d had to play the eye candy yet again.

The ambassador growled at the beefy bouncers to let him go and ripped his arms away from them.

She stalked up to her partner and pushed him on the chest once, twice, as he looked down at her brokenly. “ _Stop_. Stop it, Nick. This is over, okay? I can’t keep doing it.”

“But I love you,” he whispered, reaching to run a thumb down her cheek. She stepped back.

“I’m sorry.” Another step. “Go home, Nick.” And another. And another, until she was right by the ambassador’s side. The younger man stared at her for a few seconds, until finally, hesitantly, he turned around and disappeared into the stream of crowd trying to swallow them as well to go around the back. The moment he was out of sight, she let her shoulders sag, turning to look at their target, regret and embarrassment shining clearly into her eyes. “I am… _so_ sorry for this,” she whispered, reaching up to take a closer look at the cut on his cheekbone. He took hold of her hand, tugging it away and smiling with a strained look.

“It’s alright, doll. I’ve had worse.” She shook her head quickly.

“No, please. Let me take care of you.”

He tried to wave her off. “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” As he tried to let go of her hand, she tightened her grip on his, making him look back into her face as she stared with liquid, begging eyes.

“Please. I… I don’t want to be alone tonight.” She probably looked dishevelled, distressed, afraid. And big, strong, macho men like the ambassador… they loved playing the hero. He started to nod, and she beamed at him, relieved, rising up on her tiptoes ever so slightly to brush a kiss across his cheek. He nestled her arm in the crook of her elbow, when she remembered the bottle. “Give me just one second.” She emerged back out a moment later, holding it up triumphantly. “Can’t forget this,” she giggled somewhat uneasily, the earlier encounter still keeping her on edge. Regardless, she was overcome by child-like giddiness as she snuggled back into him, twisting the delicate smooth emerald ring on her forefinger as she clasped his wrist with an empty hand, pressing the toxin smeared across the stone into his skin.

They had only made a few steps when he started weighing her down. By the time they reached her awaiting partner at the next turn, she was practically holding him up. He wouldn’t die. Well… not before they got their intel, anyway.

* * *

She kicked off her shoes with a relieved sight, reaching back for the zipper of the dress on the way to the bathroom.

“I swear to God,” she called back, “if I have to seduce one more creep, I might actually accidentally kill him instead.” She pulled off the wig and shimmied out of the dress, turning to look at the hotel living room where she’d left her partner. She’d expected a snarky, teasing remark, an offer to switch places next time, a laugh? She walked back out to find him staring out the window, still in the suit from earlier.

She padded softly across the floor, a crease etched between her eyebrows. He jumped when she put a hand on his back.

“What’s wrong?” He shook his head with a tight smile, completely transparent. He wasn’t even trying. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow and watched him admit defeat with a sigh. She didn’t even feel bad – if he didn’t want to talk about it, he would have pulled back. Something was obviously on his mind and they’d learned long ago that they worked most efficiently when they didn’t bury their feelings (no matter how much both of them dreaded actually talking about those.) “Is it the mission?” She offered. She knew how much children affected him every time, they affected _her_ as well. Who knows how many he’d sold before they’d finally got to him, but she wondered if there was a deeper connection to the mission, one she couldn’t yet make. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

“I suppose,” he shrugged, but left it at that. Would he make her force the words out of him?

“What about it? Coulson took care of the bodyguard at the bar and you said everything had gone according to plan with the ones in the car. No one saw anything. It’s going to be at least a few more hours before anyone raises the alarm. Long enough for the interrogators to get what they need and shut it all down.”

“It’s not that,” he said, shaking his head, as he turned around and dragged his feet to the couch to slump back against it, refusing to really look at her. She walked over and sat down beside him, cataloguing the way he tensed when her bare thigh came into view. He slowly shifted his eyes to roam her face, unreadable. “Why are you still naked?” There was something choked up in his voice that made her tilt her head and smirk teasingly.

“Why, does it bother you?” His jaw clenched and unclenched, and he turned away from her. Something hot and angry sparked in her chest, words from earlier flooding back into her head. He’d said things… Things that had felt way too real, that had brought up her own struggles after she’d so carefully pushed them back and deep, deep down. She’d chalked it up to him being dramatic as always, doing his best to sell their cover. “Look at me,” she said. He shook his head. “ _Look at me_.”

“I can’t,” he growled. “Not without thinking of how fucking miserable I am.”

She swallowed, blinking quickly a few times. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she whispered, careful to not let any of the hurt and betrayal seep into her voice. “I didn’t know I made you miserable.” She was difficult, she knew. Hell, she prided herself on it. They argued a lot and they had different opinions on some matters, but she’d thought they were doing fine. They’d seen more of each other than they let any other person see. They sparred off all the fire they could, and they had learned to trust each other. They worked great together. She had had no idea that was how he truly felt. She sprang to her feet, cutting him off right before he had a chance to say anything. Before he had had a chance to cause her more pain. “I’ll let Coulson know I’m going to need a reassignment tomorrow and I’ll be out of your hair as soon—”

“ _No_.” His voice reverberated throughout the room as his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. “That’s _not_ what I meant.” She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face him, not without him seeing just how much he had affected her. He stepped in front of her, putting a palm to her cheek to raise her head, eyes like shattered glass melting into hers. “You’re _not_ making me miserable. You will _never_ make me miserable. It’s my own stupidity. My own lack of self-preservation. It’s my own fault for… for falling in love with my best friend when she doesn’t feel the same way.”

Her heart raged in her chest while her brain tried to dissect this new information. He was… And he thought she…

“I’m sorry. I’m out of line.” His face crumpled as he went to let go of her. “If you still want to be re—”

She put a hand over his, placing it back flat onto her skin, threading their fingers together.

“How long?” she asked.

“Long.”

“And it never occurred to you the feeling might be mutual?”

A beat. “Are you kidding?” His voice had gone from desperate and regretful to hopeful, breathless. “I could never even dream.”

She hummed as she raised her other hand to mirror his, running a thumb over his stubble, shortening distance, erasing doubts, bringing them closer until there was nothing they could see but the other. “Maybe you should start dreaming then.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [ohwriteiforgot](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com)


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